The Sepulcher of Souls
by Dua Delacroix
Summary: The Time Turner is destroyed as Harry and Hermione help Sirius escape the Dementor's Kiss. While they save his soul, they are pulled through Time - into the past. In the era they arrive, a Wizarding War rages, a Dark Lord must be defeated, and another soul must be saved...if saving the soul of a future Dark Lord is even possible. TimeTravel AU.
1. I: A Splinter in the Sky

**INTRODUCTION**

Welcome to **The Sepulcher of Souls**!

**The Sepulcher of Souls** came about after a reading of **Prisoner of Azkaban** and realizing that Hermione was very clear that terrible things happened to wizards that messed with Time. Yes, Harry and Hermione were messing with Time for a noble cause and to save an innocent man from a terrible fate...but, what if there was still a consequence to that? No good deed goes unpunished, as they say.

As it turned out, I found a very neat canon moment to diverge from - the end of _Chapter 21: Hermione's Secret_ in **Prisoner of Azkaban**. From there, the plot of this story comes from currently reading **Chamber of Secrets** and finding a treasure trove of plot bunnies the more I read and think about the plot of Book 2.

I've tried my best to make this an original Time-Travel fic, if there is such a thing after almost twenty years of fanfiction, and we will all see if I'm successful with it, especially as I have a number of other fanon tropes I'm going to weave into the Time Travel plot.

**The Sepulcher of Souls** is already plotted out about twenty-five chapters, with a fair bit of it written, so updates will hopefully be frequent - and at some point, I'm going to catch up with myself and then, they'll slow.

All in all, I'm looking forward to writing my own attempt at Time Travel and seeing how correct I get it. Without further ado, here is the first chapter of **The Sepulcher of Souls**!

* * *

**CHAPTER I**: A Splinter in the Sky

_**June 1994**_  
_**The Black Lake, Hogwarts Castle - Scotland **_

"Harry, look! Who's that? Someone is coming out of the castle!"

Harry stared hard at the brawny figure thundering down the castle steps. The wizard was thickset, moved like a coil of tension, and as he stepped down onto the dirt path that lead to the front gates of Hogwarts, something gleamed at his belt, an angry and forbidding flash of silver in the otherwise dark night.

Harry realized who he was.

"That's Macnair - the executioner!" A cold rush of dread flooded the pit of his stomach, as Harry guessed why he'd be headed towards the gates. "Oh, no. He must have been the one to go get the Dementor. This is it! They're about to have Black recieve the Dementor's Kiss - right now!"

Hermione paled, her dewy skin suddenly ashen in understanding.

Harry motioned for her to mount Buckbeak, noticing the tremble in her hands as she did so, settling herself upon the hippogriff's feathered body with no little amount of fear. His heart racing, fear flooding through him at the idea of not getting to Black on time, Harry swung himself up onto Buckbeak in front of Hermione - and urged Buckbeak upwards into the sky.

Black was innocent.

Black was innocent and had never betrayed his parents, but Pettigrew had instead - and, Black was about to pay for Pettigrew's betrayal, with his soul. Harry had known the truth for less than three hours, but it was enough for him.

Enough to eliminate the lies and half-truths that he'd been hearing about all year long, as Black had supposedly hunted him and set out to kill him. Enough for him to want to rescue Black and see him cleared of all wrongdoing, so that Black could be free - so that they could have a home together, as his parents had intended and wanted, if anything had happened to them.

Black was innocent and wanted to give him the home that James and Lily Potter wanted for Harry to have -

And, for that reason alone, Harry had to save him.

Black was the last link that he had to his past, the last connection he had to a life that he never knew about but had been longing for his entire life.

If he didn't save Black, there was no future for him, and with this desperate thought clawing at his own soul, Harry urged Buckbeak upwards until they reached Professor Flitwick's Office, in the West Tower. With a pull of the rope, Harry tried to steady himself as he reached out and rapped smartly on Professor Flitwick's window.

"_Sirius_! Sirius, we're here to save you!"

* * *

_Sirius...Sirius, we're here to save you..._

The words triggered a memory he hadn't been able to think of or feel for twelve torturous years, and Sirius gasped as his mind began to swim and blur. Twenty-odd years crossed and clouded in his mind as he remembered a warm summer night in 1976...a night when James and Remus had saved him, wild black hair and long toffee hair gleaming in the moonlight as they'd promised they were there to save him...

This wasn't James and Remus.

The black-haired Potter and his brown-haired friend were Harry and Hermia - Hermione? - and they were the ones here to save him.

Not from the prison that was Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, but the prison that had become Professor Flitwick's office, as awaited the Dementor's Kiss and the death of his self and soul.

Sirius shook his head, roughly, trying to clear his mind -

But when he looked up again, James and Remus were there - again.

James and Remus were hovering on a broomstick outside of his bedroom window...James was bravely trying to get the window to respond to his Black blood and open for him, while Remus waited second-seat on the broom, the lookout and the support...they'd gotten the owl that Sirius had sent, distressed and fearful because of his parents' threat to send him to Durmstrang...and they were here to save him, black hair and brown hair bobbing in the night, and free him from this confinement and the awful future that awaited him...

Soon, he would be safe and where he belonged, able to go back to Hogwarts -

Sirius shook his head, a low moan coming from him.

No, he was _here _at Hogwarts, already. Hogwarts wasn't where he belonged, because here at Hogwarts he was restrained with an Incarcerous Spell and awaiting the execution of his soul.

Sirius strained at the ropes as Harry and his brown-haired friend continued to float outside the window, both stealth and determination all in one.

Harry and _Hermione _were bobbing up and down in the warm night, on a hippogriff and not a broomstick - and, if Harry's hushed shout was any indication, he and his brown-haired friend were here to save him. Harry was trying to make the wards on the window give into his command to open, while Hermione sat second-saddle upon a wild and restless hippogriff, her dark eyes darting around nervously and anxiously. They knew that he was innocent and that Pettigrew - weak, pathetic, worthless _Peter_, who he wished he _had _killed - was the true betrayer of James and Lily Potter. They knew this and they were here to save him from his execution and free him from the awful fate that awaited him.

James and Remus...

Harry and Hermione...

...a black-haired Potter with the blood of the House of Black and his brown-haired friend of undesirable blood...untamed ink-and-midnight hair, wind-swept and impossibly long toffee-and-cinnamon hair both distinctive and clear in the light of a moon that shone too brightly and had been the start of their problems, a few short hours ago...

Sirius strained against the ropes that bound him.

James - no, _Harry _\- threw himself against the window, earning a stern rebuke from Remus - no, _Hermione _\- and an admonishment to be more careful. James had been able to get the window to open for him as the child of Dorea Black's womb, but Harry had not been able to get the wards to budge under the power of a son of the House of Black -

With a shared look, Harry - James? - and his brown-haired friend - Remus? - drew their wands, determinedly.

"Stand back, Mr. Black! I think I know what wards Professor Flitwick uses - we're going to have to - we're going to get the window open in just a minute!"

Sirius blinked at the young witch's voice, trembling with fear, but still so sure that she and Harry would be able to break through a High Charms Master's wards.

His doubt was instantly proven wrong.

In act of tandem magic that should have been impossible for their age and lack of blood relation, Harry and Hermione pointed their wands at the sealed window as one, and shattered it loose from its framing, the window frame itself still solidly intact. Glass and bronze and spell-residue exploded inwards into Flitwick's Office and although Sirius turned his face away, pieces of bronze and glass still nicked at his exposed arm, painfully.

"Oh, goodness - Mr. Black, we're _so _sorry - we didn't mean to - "

"Oh, no! He's tied up, Hermione. We have to get him lose - _now_!"

Sirius opened his mouth to warn Harry to not try anything that would hurt himself, but he was nowhere quick enough. Lithely, with a grace and agility that could only come from the natural gifts of a Seeker, Harry flung himself into the open air between where the hippogriff hovered and the window - and, was able to sling himself through it, with only a bump or two.

"Harry, you shouldn't be here - they'll be here any moment to give me the Kiss - you'll be in _terrible _trouble if you're caught here - "

Harry looked up from the ropes, defiantly. "You're my godfather - my dad's best friend! _Of course _I should be here, trying to save you. You don't deserve this!"

Time and space crossed and clouded again.

James had gotten the window open and was able to come through because he had been born from the womb of a daughter of the House of Black, he was a Black by blood and birth if not through love and acceptance. Number Twelve had recognized his blood as it would never recognize Remus's blood and James stood freely in his bedroom, staring at Sirius defiantly.

_You're my best friend - my cousin! Of course I should be here, trying to save you. You don't deserve this!_

Sirius had been overwhelmed as James pulled him into a rough, brief hug, trembling slightly as they began to quietly gather clothing and belongings that he couldn't bear to leave behind. Just as he was overwhelmed now, with the determination of this child of James to free him from his bindings. Sirius began to tremble again, as time and space crossed and blurred.

James had risked everything to save Sirius from what he knew was an unloving and harmful house, exactly as Harry was risking everything to save Sirius from what he knew was an unjust and undeserved execution.

James and Harry...Harry and James...James, his best friend and his cousin, the brother that Regulus would never be...Harry, his godson and his cousin, the son that he should be because James was no longer here...Harry and James...James and Harry...black-haired Potter and his brown-haired friend...James and Remus and and Harry and Hermione...Harry and Hermione and Remus and...

"...James, James, you've come to save me..."

Sirius came back to reality sharply as Harry gasped, his eyes wide and pained.

Emerald-and-clover green eyes. Greener than ripe apples, as glowing and verdant as the scales of a Welsh Green. Almond in shape with lashes rather long, a wealth of expression in their jade and leaf-like depths.

Lily had those eyes.

Lily had those eyes and with those same eyes, she had looked at him directly in the shadowy night of the birthing room - asking him quietly, while James snored with baby Harry on chest, to be her newborn babe's godfather. Lily had those eyes and with those eyes, she expressed that she didn't trust anyone but _him _\- Sirius, the rogue Black - to care for and love and protect with his life their babe, the creation of herself and James, if the war took them and kept them from raising their own son.

Lily had those eyes that Harry had and it was her eyes that stared out of her son's face, her son's face with her fuller mouth and the same determined, courageous set of her strong chin.

Harry and his face and his eyes. Harry and his face and Lily's eyes.

James did not have this face, James did not have Lily's eyes. James had saved him once, but Harry was who was saving him now...

Harry was gentle, as he finally found the catch and undid the ropes. Magic might have bound the ropes in place and kept them there, but an Incarcerous Spell wasn't stronger than Harry's will, it seemed.

"Come on, we're going to go home now, Sirius - you're free."

Harry and James guided him towards the window, strong and sure hands clutching at his arm and letting him know that he was no longer alone. Harry and James helped him get a grip on the window seal, as his hippogriff and his broom waited, Remus and Hermione holding out a thin, sure hand to help him astride the broomstick and the hippogriff -

Hermione screamed.

Remus had not.

The door to Professor Flitwick's office opened leisurely as Harry and Hermione tried to pull him through the window and astride the hippogriff, where his bedroom door had not, as Remus had slung him securely onto the broom as James had followed, their mission completed.

Minister Fudge, Amelia Bones, a leonine Auror that was clearly the Captain of the Corps, and Albus Dumbledore stood frozen in shock as Sirius braced himself against the windowsill. They couldn't believe what they were witnessing, though Dumbledore's pleasant shock was certainly not for the same reasons as his Ministry colleagues.

Harry swore, pulling at him more desperately, as the hippogriff reared and Hermione shrieked in fear of falling off.

"SIRIUS, NOW!"

"BLACK, DON'T MOVE! STOP RIGHT THERE!"

All blurring and disintegration of the past and present crumbled under the sharp and bitter sting of survival.

The Ministry was right behind him.

The shock was wearing off and they were moving into action, swearing and racing across the expanse of Flitwick's office.

Freedom was in front of him, right out this window and onto the back of a hippogriff, steered by his godson and his godson's brown-haired friend -

He just had to take a leap and hope he landed where he was supposed to.

Over a decade in Azkaban had wittled him down to skin stretched over a skeleton. Where he was used to be broad and brawny, a fine example of a strapping and powerful pureblood Lord, Sirius was mildly shocked at how weightless he must truly be if Harry and Hermione were able to easily help him swing up onto the hippogriff behind Hermione.

The Auror Captain and Bones reached the narrow window.

Wands were being drawn, commands and orders were being shouted.

"Black! You'll be put to death for this! Stop right now!"

"Under orders of the Ministry for Magic, you are UNDER ARREST - STOP - "

Sirius wrapped his long, skeletal arms around both Hermione and Harry, as Harry swore again and urged Buckbeak to turn and go into flight. The hippogriff was clearly unused to having so many bodies astride him, for he was having trouble smoothly or swiftly moving away from the window.

The hippogriff couldn't turn fast enough, despite Harry's frantic urging.

A volley of spell-fire blew apart the ornate stone frame of the window, as the Auror Captain and Bones decided to cut their losses and get control of Black's second escape, as best they could. Sirius watched in horror as most of the spell-light was absorbed by the flying chunks of masonry - but, not all of it.

A cluster of spells was still headed towards them.

Gales of summer wind that were blowing the clouds around the moonlit night were making the course of the spells erratic, untrustworthy. Sirius hoped that they would fly harmlessly past himself and the children and the hippogriff - it didn't seem likely, however.

Either the children or the hippogriff would take the spell-fire meant for him and who _knew _what spells the Ministry would feel was appropriate for the only fugitive of Azkaban, who was fleeing from their custody for a second and impossible time. The children could be harmed or killed, their young bodies and growing magical cores not strong enough to survive getting slammed with the full force of Ministry official spells - or, the fall that would knock them out air, upon contact. The hippogriff, the beautiful and majestic beast that was trying its best to get its own freedom, as well - the hippogriff would be harmed and certainly put down, too.

He had to do something.

Neither Harry nor Hermione could be harmed or killed on his behalf, not when their young and pure hearts were only doing what any righteous and noble Gryffindor would do for an innocent or a loved one. The hippogriff wouldn't, either, not when it was so crucial to this risky escape, to start with.

Sirius dug his heels into Buckbeak's side, remembering the command from his childhood competitive riding days.

Sirius gave a rattling, wheezing shout of triumph as Buckbeak jerked to a complete halt as obediently as if he'd been trained by a world-class hippogriff master. Another brief groove closer to his hind legs had him arching downwards -

But, not as fast or as swiftly as Sirius hoped.

He had tried, but it was _too late_.

The cluster of menacing spell reached them, individual spells twisting nastily together to send a current of magic through them that felt as though they were being flayed alive - and, slammed into Hermione directly, an agonized screech coming from her as flames erupted on her chest, beneath her shirt.

A great, blindingly bright explosion of light and iridescent sand covered them in a thick, choking, cloying dust and all Sirius had time to do was ensure he was holding on to both his godson _and _his brown-haired friend, as something terrible yanked at everything in his torso and _**pulled**_.

Sirius was engulfed in a sudden darkness that rivaled the depth and the dark of his own name.

All he knew was the desperate, protective hold that his skeletal arms had around both Harry and Hermione hadn't broken, as miraculous and unlikely as it was. As they tumbled through the darkness and choked on too-thick dust, it was this embrace around the children that kept him centered and kept him from coming apart into dust, as they were pulled further and further into an impossibly narrow splinter of darkness...further and further...

His last thought was of the blackness of Potter hair and the brown hair of friendship and the embrace of family, as he wished with all his soul that the two children he held locked in his arms hadn't lost their own lives in their noble attempt at saving his life -

And his soul.

* * *

**The Mayor's Manse - Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**

A warm gale of summer wind swept through the garden, stirring the scents of roses and jasmine and honeysuckle, and causing a happy flickering of the candles upon the mourning altar.

The Matriarch Candle, deep and soothing blue, flickered the brightest.

Phineas Aurelius smiled, sadly. His iron-gray eyes were misty with the rare tears he allowed himself on this night, as he thought of the witch that the candle was lit in memoriam of: the unearthly beauty that had been his wife, Cindora Greengrass Black.

"I believe it is a lovely night, as well, beloved," Phineas Aurelius said, into the comfortable silence of the garden. "I would be asleep, but as usual, I am restless tonight. As I am every night, especially this night of the year..."

On either side of the blue candle, the Matriarch Candle, the purple and lavender candles flickered, almost as if to comfort but with an edge of rebuke. The purple candle was a rich and deep shade of the color, full of the vibrancy and wealth of spirit that Rigel himself had been overflowing with, as his heir - until the morning had come when his candle, the Heir Candle, had to be lit in remembrance of his departed life.

Phineas Aurelius nodded his head, sadly thoughtful as he stared deeply at the flickers of the purple candle and its partner, the pale lavender Heiress candle that was lit in memory of Rigel's fleeting bride, Philippa Clearwater Black.

If he still allowed himself such indulgences of grief, Phineas Aurelius would have said he could hear Rigel's voice on the wind: disapproving of his wallowing, as he would have been kind and understanding about it. Phineas Aurelius had long since moved past that stage of grief, where the mourning he'd had for his son was so strong, he'd mistake and half-plead for a shade of him in the wind or the echo of him as a ghost. He had not, however, moved past the part of grieving where he no longer wallowed - and, Phineas Aurelius didn't think he would, after thirty-five years.

Thirty five years since Rigel had been murdered, thirty-four years since Cindora had died of a broken heart, and thirty-three years since Phineas Aurelius had given up hope of finding Rigel's bride and the secret child she carried within her when she'd disappeared the same day Rigel was murdered.

Three and a half decades of mourning the swiftness in which his small, cherished family had been taken from him.

Three and a half decades of waking up to an empty manse and aching at the absence of his wife's laugh which had been like wind chimes or his son's fierce ambition and great love for his fellow man - and, even the gentle, refined touch of his Muggle-born daughter-in-law, who he'd only begun to mourn after it was clear she'd never return.

Three and a half decades of unyieldingly keeping and defending the appointment of Mayor of Hogsmeade, as to ensure that nothing as heinous as the murder of his son ever happened again, in the Wizarding-exclusive village of Hogsmeade.

For Phineas Aurelius Aurelius, thirty-five years had felt like thirty-five eternities and not for the first time, he achingly wondered when he would be able to go and join his wife and his son, beyond the Veil.

"I'll start my seventh term as Mayor tomorrow, as you all know," Phineas Aurelius said, staring at the mourning altar sadly, wishing he were talking to his wife and his son - and not their memorial candles. "I believe it will be my last and then, I'm going to look towards retiring."

Another gale of wind came through the garden, harder and a touch less warm than previously. All three candles flickered in agitation. Phineas Aurelius raised his brows at the candles, questioningly.

"Is this news that displeases?" asked Phineas Aurelius, knowing there would be no real answer. "I'm nearing middle age, of course, and after nearly forty years as Mayor, I am starting to be interested in what else there is outside of our village of Hogsmeade."

The truth of his own words were heavy in the quiet of the garden. As if making it clear what they thought of Phineas Aurelius retiring in another five years, the wind chimes began to ring rather sharply through the garden. The wind was picking up terribly, gale after gale sweeping through the garden, and Phineas Aurelius became uneasy as he looked up at the sky, noticing something strange indeed.

The sky above Hogsmeade, the very village that Phineas Aurelius had just confessed to his family's memorial candles he was looking to leave behind forever...

The sky was rippling and fracturing.

Phineas Aurelius came to his feet, his eyes wide in fear and confusion as he watched the summer sky become splintered with flickering white light. He'd never seen something like this before in all his seventy years of life and wildly, Phineas Aurelius looked around, as if pleading for someone else to assure he that he was seeing what he was seeing - but there was no one.

No one in his garden, but himself and the memorial candles that had been burning for over thirty years for his wife, his son, and his daughter-in-law.

A deep, pulsing sound like thunder rattled the very ground of Hogsmeade, as the splintering of white light illuminated brightly - and then, the sky itself cracked open, in an explosion of iridescent, dusky white and gold light.

"What in the name of creation...?"

Phineas Aurelius stood awestruck as a plume of dust and light fell from the sky, seeming to be both a meteorite and a comet, a dust-storm and an explosion, all at once. It would strike the pastures on the farthest edge of the village, where they were no villagers, it seemed. Confident that none of his constituents would be in danger for the immediate moment, Phineas Aurelius watched as the conflagration of dust and light continued to hurtle to Earth, steaks of fire and - feathers? snow? ice? - followed in its wake.

The plume of light and dust and fire landed with a rather solid impact on the far pasture of Hogsmeade, where the roads gave into the wild trails that led to the lochs and the mountains nearby. The ground quaked once, briefly, a strong but fleeting feeling that made Phineas Aurelius feel temporarily disoriented.

Uneasily, Phineas Aurelius waited, watching intently where the plume had crashed into the Earth.

The sky was as untouched and unbroken, once more, as if the great splintering of light and fire hadn't torn it open like fabric and brought down whatever had just crashed in the village pasture. There was no more wind, neither warm nor unusually cold, and the previous stillness of the drowsy, warm Scottish summer night was as it had been before this frightening and most unusual event.

When several minutes had passed and Phineas Aurelius was convinced nothing else would happen, he took one last look at the pasture and the crash site, before turning on his heel sharply and heading towards his Floo.

The awe of the moment had passed and any immediate danger didn't appear to be forthcoming, but that didn't mean that the unusual event he'd just witnessed was not of harm to himself or his villagers.

Despite what he'd confessed to the memorial candles of his wife and son, Phineas Aurelius knew well and good what there was outside of the insular, protected town of Hogsmeade Village. The Muggles were at war with one another, their battles with each other and their crude technology spreading throughout the entire globe, rather frighteningly. Grindelwald was taking advantage of the Muggle war, as he had in the previous global war decades earlier, and Wizarding Europe had fallen to him last year, after decades of siege and assault.

Wizarding Britain was an oasis of neutrality, refusing to get involved in the complicated politics of Wizarding Europe, only offering refuge to European wizarding folk who were looking to escape - but, that didn't mean it was to that way, forever.

Phineas Aurelius knelt down at his Floo, throwing a pinch of Floo powder in, anxiously. As expected, within two chimes, his Constable answered the hearth, and Phineas Aurelius looked at him, pointedly.

"Constable Spinnet, I just witnessed an explosion in the far pastures and I believe we may be under assault - possibly from Muggles, but very likely from an agent or operative of Gridelwald. I'm calling a Code Red, Alfred."

Alfred Spinnet blinked owlishly at Phineas Aurelius, his brown-skinned face stunned for only a second, before becoming grim.

"Well, Mayor, I'm not surprised. It is 1941...I don't suppose Wizarding Britain could hide from either the Muggles or from Gridelwald, forever."

* * *

[**Author's Note**: I know for a moment it looked like I was going to get off at the Marauders Era stop on the Time-Travel trope, but as I said - I've currently reading **Chamber of Secrets** and I realized why it was my favorite book of all. We are officially in the era of Tom Marvolo Riddle and his rise to becoming Lord Voldemort, which canon made clear happened while he was in Hogwarts, still.

1941 is right before Riddle's fourth-year at Hogwarts, while the end of **Prisoner of Azkaban** (June 1994) is also right before Harry and Hermione's fourth-year at Hogwarts. I couldn't pass up the opportunity when I realized that Riddle's fifth year is when the original Chamber of Secrets event happened and as of **Prisoner of Azkaban**, Harry and Hermione would be Riddle's peers if they got pulled back in time at the end of their third year.

If someone had gotten to Riddle at that critical moment, would they have been able to prevent his rise? Or, is this simply Riddle's destiny, no matter what? Can knowledge of the future not only change the future, but create an entirely different world, instead? Let's find out!

Reviews are welcome, as well as theories and thoughts! Onwards to the next chapter!]


	2. II: Fallen and Fractured

**CHAPTER II**: Fallen and Fractured

_**June 1941 - Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**_

Grindelwald or Muggles.

Phineas Aurelius shivered in the warmth of the summer night, as he quickly made his way towards Town Hall.

Grindelwald had not yet brought his war to Britain, although at this point, it had touched everywhere in the Wizarding World _except _for Britain. Europe had been the first to fall, spectacularly quickly. Grindelwald's movement had seeded and grown in the heart of Eastern Europe where he was native to, before spreading like a slow, creeping rot of Dark Magic and ill intent. Every year, there was a new part of the world that reported an invasion or capture by Grindelwald's forces...and, after twenty years, the only place left that hadn't fallen victim to the ruthlessness of Grindelwald was Wizarding Britain.

Grindelwald was unstoppable, infallible, and his slow and determined rise to power had yet to be thwarted by any government or nation, so far.

As Constable Spinnet had grimly declared: it was only a matter of time before Britain was touched by the dark movement that had invaded everything else in Magic.

With no little amount of anxiety, Phineas Aurelius turned onto High Street. If it weren't Grindelwald or one of his operatives, then it could very well be that the war amongst Muggles had finally begun to penetrate their world - and, more than a call to the Constable would be needed.

Phineas Aurelius didn't know what would be preferable - Grindelwald or Muggles, although he did know he would prefer it to be neither.

As he walked up the silent and dimly torchlit lane, he was startled to see the glow of the crash site in the distance, a sickly and dull burnt orange on the horizon.

"Uncle Phineas!" A worried, high-strung voice called out from behind him, causing Phineas to glance over his shoulders. Cedrella Weasley was hurrying towards him, her Healer's bag clutched in her hands and her copper-red hair flying out behind her like a ribbon of flame as she caught up to him. "Thank Merlin you're alright. Alfred firecalled and said that you were apart of an explosion or an attack - he said you'd called a Code Red!"

Phineas Aurelius put an arm around his niece's slender shoulders, comfortingly. "I wasn't _involved_, Ella. I merely witnessed it and asked Constable Spinnet to fetch you, in case medical assistance was necessitated by what we found at the crash site."

Cedrella appeared relieved by this, although still confused. "A crash? There was a crash in the pastures? Alfred said - "

"Constable Spinnet is a Gryffindor alum, for all that he has numerous positive attributes to make up for that glaring flaw," Phineas Aurelius interrupted his worrisome niece, continuing: "Let not our valued constable get you wound into a snit, because he doesn't know what is truly going on anymore than I do, myself. That is rather the point of this investigative expedition."

Phineas Aurelius felt the tension drain from his niece's shoulders, as they neared Town Hall and found Constable Spinnet already awaiting them.

Cedrella was still young, only twenty-five years old and out of Hogwarts just six short years. By the time she'd left Hogwarts, she was already a wife and a mother, a scandal that had earned her the black mark that disinherited her from the House of Black, as Phineas had been himself. Privately, Phineas Aurelius believed that the upheaval his youngest brother and sister-in-law had put their middle daughter through had left her rather...skittish, easily worried. If his niece hadn't been the only Emergency Response Healer stationed at the Hogsmeade branch of St. Mungo's, Phineas Aurelius would have easily kept her in the dark about whatever unusual and uncertain event they were headed to investigate.

As it was, Cedrella was the only EMH he had. Whether he or she wanted or not, her Healer Oath's and apprenticeship for St. Mungo's Hospital required her to answer the call of the Mayor in times of emergency. Reluctantly, he'd ordered Alfred to fire-call her and summoned her from her bed - but, the anxiety he'd just witnessed in his niece had him regretting such an order. Perhaps he should have been the one to fire-call instead of Alfred. He might have even had a stern word with her husband, Septimus, to be sure the absent-minded wizard would mind their seven-year-old son for as long as this took, especially if she couldn't return home by the time Gawain was to begin his morning lessons.

As it was, he'd left the duty to the excitable and dramatic Constable Spinnet -

The constable who appeared prepared for war, as Phineas Aurelius and Cedrella greeted him, briskly but politely. Excitement such as this hadn't come to the village in many years and clearly, he was itching to put his defense drills to practice for the good of their village.

Phineas Aurelius gave Cedrella a look that plainly said his point had been proven, as Constable Spinnet puffed out his chest importantly and shared what he knew, so far.

"Mayor Black, I have the village underneath a Community Protego protocol until either you or myself gives the all clear. All of my deputies are currently out on patrol, throughout the village, and all of our citizens are secure. As far as I can tell with my Omninoculars, we're looking at a crash from a malfunctioned Portkey landing or a broomstick - but, there was no doubt powerful magic involved." Alfred Spinnet looked seriously between the Mayor and his Healer niece, as he added: "A cursory investigation with Omninoculars reports the presence of at least three bodies. Whether they are survivors or decedents remains to be determined - we won't know that until we're out there and see for ourselves."

Phineas Aurelius made a worried noise, as he listened to his constable's report.

A Portkey or broomstick crash. Powerful magic involved to create a crash of that intensity. Three bodies, just as likely to be alive as they were dead.

Muggles appeared unlikely at this point, considering the Constable's confirmation of magic being involved with the crash. If Muggles weren't likely to be culprit or cause, then that left the other option - the option that had both Constable Spinnet and Cedrella looking as apprehensive as he felt.

In leadership and with a determination that would see him through far better than the bravado of the likes of his Gryffindor Constable, Phineas Aurelius drew his wand and turned to begin the short walk out to the far pastures of Hogsmeade Village.

"Very well, then. Wands at the ready, Constable, Healer."

Together, the trio of Hogsmeade officials headed through the balmy night towards the site of the unusual crash that Phineas would have never seen, if he hadn't have been restless enough to be out in his gardens, past midnight.

* * *

His entire body hurt, as if he'd been squeezed through an impossible narrow and inflexible crack or fracture in - in the sky? - in the world? - in Time? The narrow slit was filled with both and darkness and light and he had been pushed through, crushed and pressed and squeezed -

Until everything around him exploded in heat and sand and fire and feathers, his whole world illuminated in a light that was so bright, it pulled a scream from his skeletal and wasted body as hurtled through the sky towards an expanse of earth and darkness.

Sirius felt as if every bone in his body shattered into dust as he hit the ground hard enough to make his vision dim and steal what little breath rattled in his chest.

"Ja...mione...Har...mus..."

Sirius knew who he was seeking, who he was trying to lift his broken and managled body to reach out and search for. The names wouldn't come, not with his jaw twisted and aching as it was.

A guttural moan came from him as the sound of two more impacts landed near him and made the ground quake.

There was now nothing but low, patchy light and blistering silence.

Weakly, Sirius reached up, his hand bent an unnatural angle as he tried to grasp for something to help him to his feet. Anything to get him from this painful groove his weightless and starved body had somehow rent into the earth. He had to make sure that Harry was safe and alive, he had to make sure his brown-haired friend wasn't harmed either -

He had to make sure that they could all escape.

As of now, they were all in this together, both children his responsibility to protect and guard with his life, just as they had risked their own lives to aid and abet him in escaping to freedom. From this moment on, he wouldn't leave either Harry or Hermione alone and vulnerable to capture or punishment from the Ministry - not ever.

If the Ministry got their hands on either child, they'd show no mercy to them as they would to Sirius himself. The disaster they he'd created by escaping from Azkaban had conflagrated into a catastrophe of the highest order once he'd escaped a second time - and Sirius knew that the "kidnapping" of the Boy Who Lived and a Muggle-born Hogwarts student only compounded it all. Every official, possibly right on up to Dumbledore himself, would be merciless and ruthless in their punishment for his crimes and the crimes they believed he'd committed.

No, the Ministry couldn't get their hands on Harry and Hermione, which meant it was his responsibility to keep them hidden and get them away from where they'd just fallen, into safety and anonimity.

His head swam dangerously, as he coughed harshly and felt the wetness of blood fly from his swollen jaw.

If he could survive, then he could make sure that Harry and Hermione were safe, and that was all that was needed.

His survival.

Not for himself or his own good, but for that of his godson and his brown-haired friend, the two selfless children who'd sacrificed so much to see him free - and were paying a deep price for it, it seemed.

Sirius braced himself and with the same unthinkable strength that had kept him swimming through the Dementor-infested waters of the North Sea when he'd escaped last summer...Sirius pulled himself to his feet and searched for his godson and his friend.

Two shallow craters were only a few steps to his right.

He could make it that far, far enough to check and see if Harry was alive, if Hermione had survived the flames that had engulfed her chest and face when she'd absorbed the brunt of the spellfire. His vision was darkening aroudn the edges as he moved one foot forward, and then another.

Sirius groaned as his third and fourth steps brought a sharp stabbing pain through his chest.

Only a few more steps - then, he would - then, he could - Harry, his godson, his family - Hermione, his godson's best friend and his own rescuer - Harry, Hermione -

Sirius collasped with a wet, rattling cough that had blood pouring from his mouth and splattering across his coarse Azkaban robes.

Pinpoints of light and constellations and fire came in and out of focus, as pain began gnawing away at every nerve ending he had, making it hard to breath and taking all the strength he had to keep his eyes from fluttering shut. He'd fallen in a crumpled heap and all he could see as he laid twistedly on his back was the stars that sprinkled the midnight-dark sky.

The stars, and -

A man and woman abruptly coming into view, just as he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

The last thing Sirius keenly remembered seeing was the glittering gray of their eyes that complemented the stars, every bit as much as his own ancestors who'd been named for stars and constellations...as much as he was a star himself that had fractured and fallen from the sky, in hellish pain and impossibility...

Sirius allowed his eyes to close against his will, darkness swallowing him again in a haze of pain and glimmers of stardust and light, the sands and flames of the explosion dragging him into a deep, deep unconsciousness.

* * *

Phineas Aurelius blinked wildly, as he stared down at the wasted wizard that seemed to be bent and broken in too many places to name.

The wizard was a horror to behold, his dark hair tangled and matted in filthy ropes that reached his elbows, enough dirt and grime on his skin that nothing could be seen except streaks of dirt and blood. A skeleton seemed to be in better health than this fellow did, his skin stretched tight and grotesquely across the bone structure that stood out in stark relief.

It was clear that this had once been a broad and brawny man, who'd been starved and abused down to nothing but a parody of himself.

If it weren't for the rapid, shallow rise of his upsettingly thin chest, Phineas Aurelius would have thought him to be dead - but, a firm shake of Cedrella's copper-red curls made it clear that he was not a fatality.

"How is he still alive?" Phineas Aurelius wondered, in quiet horror. "If he were skin and bones, he'd been far healthier than he is, now."

Cedrella waved her wand over him with deep concentration. "He's a wizard, Uncle - that's how he's alive. Nothing but his magic has been keeping him alive at this point, although his core is suffering a great deal from whatever crash he just experienced."

Phineas Aurelius shook his head in awe and fear for the mangled but living wizard before him, opening his mouth to ask another question - before a panicked shout several meters away from Constable Spinnet drew both their attentions.

"Circe's skirts - _children_!" Constable Spinnet waved his arms wildly, nearly shouting: "Weasley, there are children over here - a girl and a boy and the girl is in terribly awful shape! Burns all over!"

Cedrella swore, a terribly unladylike gesture that Phineas Aurelius knew his sister-in-law would have a conniption about, if she and Cedrella were still on speaking terms. Phineas Aurelius kept his eyes on the emaciated wizard whose face he couldn't stop starting at, as Cedrella leapt her feet and went towards Constable Spinnet.

It was assumed that Phineas Aurelius would keep an eye on him, while she attended to the children found in the wreckage with this wizard.

With a glance to be sure that Cedrella and Constable Spinnet were alright, Phineas Aurelius crouched down cautiously beside the man's unconscious form and began checking him for weapons or anything else that could harm them. He had nothing. Phineas Aurelius couldn't help but wrinkle his nose, as he continued to move the ragged robe around on the wizard, and a terribly rancid smell wafted up from the victim's damaged and mangled body.

The wizard had to have been in prison or enslaved, for this type of filth and muck to accumulate -

Phineas Aurelius gasped, his wand making the collar of the wizard's robes disintegrate unintentionally and revealing a harshly inked tattoo across his chest.

A tattoo one could only receive in a Wizarding prison.

Across the thin expanse of a wasted chest that was once broad, a line of harsh runes were carved into his skin, writhing and twisting with magical ink. Phineas Aurelius stared in fascinated horror as the runes shifted and changed shaped, cycling through a sequence of some sort, a pattern that repeated itself every few seconds.

To his knowledge, Azkaban issued inmate tattoos upon the convicts assigned to their prison - but, their tattoos were based upon a number system, not runes. As well, nobody in the history of the prison had ever escaped from Azkaban, as it was an isolated island in the North Sea, surrounded by Dementor breeding territory. If there was one prison that was missing a fugtive, it couldn't be Azkaban.

Phineas Aurelius leaned forward, looking more closely at the tattoo, caution slowing his every move.

These runes appeared to be...Slavic.

It had been years since he'd applied himself to the study of Ancient Runes, but this much, he was clear upon. Runes had adapted to languages over the centuries, each region of the world interpreting runic magic along their own understanding and disciplines and creating a plethora of sub-studies of the magical art. He'd been trained and become fluent in English runes, as was befitting of the second heir of the House of Black - but, it had been his only sister, Belvina, who had chosen to specialize in Slavic runes, for her runic tutoring.

He hadn't spoken to his sister in decades. However, Phineas Aurelius was clear on the memory from their childhood.

The prison markings upon this broken and battered wizard were Slavic. There was only one Slavic prison that he could think of, which would reduce its inmates to the hideous parody of a living wizard that lay crumbled in the ground before him.

The Mayor of Hogsmeade came to his feet, sharply and with a sudden tension coiling his shoulders as the pieces put themselves together, rather alarmingly.

As the wizard was unconscious and barely holding onto life, the Stabilizing Spell that his niece had cast keeping him holding on that shred of life - Phineas certainly couldn't ask him where he had come from or what was responsible for the crash landing that had quaked the whole of Hogsmeade.

However, he didn't need to.

This wizard clearly had escaped from the Slavic prison of Nurmengard Castle, the markings on his chest and the torture of his person as clear as any confession, and he had landed here in on the outskirts of Hogsmeade beacuse of a malfunctioning Portkey, it seemed.

Whether he had escaped as a victim of Grindelwald's reign or as a defected follower remained unclear, as his captivity in Nurmengard could be as much escape from punishment as it could have been from oppression.

"Uncle Phineas, the children have been stabilized and I'm going to transport them to the clinic. Have we had any changes with the adult victim, in the few minutes I've been gone?"

Cedrella appeared ashen and deeply distressed, making Phineas Aurelius wonder just how injured the children were she'd been attending.

Phineas Aurelius shook his head, uneasily. "No, he's still unconscious, but we may have a problem." Crouching down, he motioned for Cedrella to do the same, and shared his suspicions about the writhing ink across the skeletal man's chest. "Until I'm sure what's going on and we're not under attack, I'm ordering this wizard sequestered from the public in the barracks at Town Hall - and, the children, as well."

Cedrella blinked, her pale eyes shocked. "The children, as well? You can't possibly think that they are operatives of Grindelwald. They look as though they're only old enough to attend Hogwarts."

Phineas Aurelius grimaced. "Yes, but they are also in the company of this unidentified wizard, involved in the same crash as he, and aren't sure what is going on, even still. I'd rather be safe than soft, even in the case of children."

Cedrella didn't appear to be pleased by this, but she didn't argue. While she might have soundly disagreed with her uncle, in this moment, she was the Emergency Response Healer and he was the Mayor - and, Phineas Aurelius appreciated her quiet cooperation. Phineas Aurelius assisted Cedrella with conjurning three durable stretchers for transport to Town Hall, allowing her to load the children onto their stretchers first, before focusing on the suspicious, Slavic-runed wizard.

With careful care, despite the suspicion, Cedrella got the mangled wizard on his stretcher, only glaring slightly when Phineas Aurelius immediately secured him to the stretcher with a pair of conjured Custody Cuffs.

"As I said, better to safe than to be soft, until we know more." Phineas Aurelius replied, unapologetically.

With directives to Constable Spinnet to pull a handful of his deputies and secure the scene so that an investigation could be started before the Ministry was called, Phineas Aurelius and Cedrella headed towards Town Hall.

The barracks in the basement would securely hold the stranger and the children who'd accompanied them, while Cedrella worked to heal their damaged bodies, Constable Spinnet investigated what brought them here, and Phineas Aurelius tried to determine what his next move would be -

For, it was not every day that potential operatives of Grindelwald crash-landed in the pastures outside of his quiet and beloved village of Hogsmeade, for unknown purposes and by unknown means.

* * *

Moments like these made Cedrella B. Weasley think twice about whether her apprenticeship in Emergency Response Healing was truly the Healing discipline she wanted to pursue.

Instead of being snug in bed with her husband and getting a solid night's sleep, Cedrella was preparing two barracks for the holding of the victims of a Portkey crash - and, everything about what she was being ordered to do was clashing with her Healer's instincts, despite this being a part of her training.

Emergency Response Healers were under the command of not a hospital nor a clinic, but instead, the leadership of whatever government official's post they were assigned to, and she was not allowed to question the commands of her post leader. Not even if the post leader in this instance was the Mayor of Hogsmeade, her favorite uncle.

"I want the group to be settled on the bottommost floor of the barracks, where staff and citizenry are least likely to encounter them. A thorough examination of all victims involved needs to be worked up immediately, so that if this gets as far as the Ministry, I'll have all the needed paperwork already prepared for the inquiry and investigation." Uncle Phineas was in his element, as they cautiously brought the wizard and the children down to where he wanted them held. "Once they are stabilized and able to be questioned, I want to be called, immediately. I need to gather a comprehensive explaination for what happened tonight and it needs to happen as quickly as possible, Cedrella. Is this something you'll be able to handle?"

Cedrella would have been insulted, if the question came from anyone other than Uncle Phineas. When asked by Uncle Phineas, it wasn't a doubt of her strength or skill in times of crisis but instead an opportunity to remove herself from a situation that was above her capabilities. Uncle Phineas had always been like that, always thoughtful and considerate of how much weight she was able to bear.

He must understand how the treatment of these trauma patients was weighing heavily on her inborn Healing instincts, upsetting her sense of fairness and justice, going against everything she'd been taught as a Healer before specializing in Emergency Response Healing.

"Yes, Uncle Phineas, I can handle this. As long as I have the quiet and focus, I'll be able to handle this just fine."

Uncle Phineas nodded firmly, clearly having confidence in her abilities as a Healer. They brought the stretchers and the victims to the furthest two rooms at the end of the corridor, well away from the entrance and directly across the corridor from one another. While Cedrella settled the children in one room, the one featuring two full-sized beds and plenty of space to work, she listened as Uncle Phineas settled the adult in the opposite room.

She tried not to wince, as the clink of Custody Cuffs against the metal bedframe traveled easily across the corridor.

"I would ask that you not make me shackle the children as you have the adult," Cedrella said quietly, as her uncle came into the room that she was in and summoned a team of house-elves to assist her. "They're _children_, uncle - gravely harmed children, who may well be traumatized and frightened out of their wits at what occurred tonight."

Uncle Phineas seemed torn, eyeing the boy and the girl warily, as the house-elves appeared and set to work.

One pair of house elves began to sanitize and prepare her work station with all the necessary potions, herbs, and tools she'd need to start a basic stabilizing of her patients. The other pair of elves had each taken a child and began to carefully remove the burned and bloodied clothing from their too-still bodies, so they could be disposed of; they'd begin washing and sanitizing the children for medical care once their destroyed clothing had been taken off, with the precise and more evolved house-elf magic that had always been such a great help to Healing.

Cedrella came to stand beside her uncle, as she kept an eye on the assisting creatures, thankful for the silence and secrecy of Healing-trained house-elves.

"Well?" Cedrella pressed, wanting a clear answer and her request to be honored. "Can we forgo the shackles or not?"

"I'll have a deputy posted outside the doors as you work, so that the shackles won't be immediately necessary," Uncle Phineas conceded. "If one of them so much as appears to be ready to assault or harm you, intentional or not, they'll receive the same treatment as their adult companion."

Cedrella breathed a sigh of relief, as the house-elves made quick and gentle work of cleaning the children and getting the hospital robes on their wounded bodies.

"Thank you, Mayor," Cedrella said, meaningfully, as Uncle Phineas nodded, tightly. "I will start with the girl, then the boy, and I'll be able to let you know when or if they'll be ready to talk. Am I to take it that I'm handle their adult companion, once I've finished in here?"

"Will the Stabilizing Spell keep him from declining in health, before you're done with the children?" Uncle Phineas asked. Uneasily, he looked over his shoulder at the room across the corridor, as if fearing that the wizard would jump up at any moment, despite the traumatic severity of his injuries.

"Yes. He is in stasis until the spell lifts, similar to the stasis that the Draught of Living Death would provide. He won't get any better, but neither will he get worse." Cedrella informed him, quietly.

"Very well, then. Once you've seen to the children and made sure they're no longer in imminent danger, find out if they're able to talk, and then attend to the adult companion." Uncle Phineas began to leave, pausing in the doorway and adding: "A deputy will be done momentarily, but summon me if you need anything. I'll be with Alfred, following the investigation in the pasture."

Cedrella acknowledged her uncle's words, left alone with her thoughts and the three unusual trauma patients as booted footfalls grew softer and further away from them. With a deep breath, the redhead witch strengthened her Occlumency shields, summoned her Dicta-Quill and a house-elf for assistance, before turning to the battered and burned young witch that was in worse shape than her broken young wizard counterpart.

Tonight was her first night on duty as a senior Emergency Response Healer and there was nobody here but herself and the three strange trauma patients, who were hovering on the brink of death and needed her to bring them back to health and life.

She had been preparing for seven years for this moment and now that it had arrived, she would put her all into it -

For these young children depended on her without knowing her and she would not disappoint.


End file.
